


In Which A Flushed Pair Undergoes A Slow Decline In Romance Without The Expected Inversion Of Concupiscent Feelings To Instead Reach A State Of Absolute Nothingness

by sk8erade



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, Hurt No Comfort, POV Eridan Ampora
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:07:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29015601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sk8erade/pseuds/sk8erade
Summary: a.n: this is my first fanfic. i had the idea lying in bed staring up at the ceiling at 3 am when I couldn't sleep. it will be edgy and is somewhat a ventfic.
Relationships: Eridan Ampora/Feferi Peixes
Kudos: 1





	In Which A Flushed Pair Undergoes A Slow Decline In Romance Without The Expected Inversion Of Concupiscent Feelings To Instead Reach A State Of Absolute Nothingness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a.n: this is my first fanfic. i had the idea lying in bed staring up at the ceiling at 3 am when I couldn't sleep. it will be edgy and is somewhat a ventfic.

Eridan woke up.

Well, he did a while ago. It's been happening a lot lately. It seems like every day now, no matter how hard he tries, he's stuck with his consciousness active for a few hours in the middle of the day. And every troll knows that just breeds strange, irradiated thoughts. That's what he'd like to think, anyway. That the suns scorching rays are playing tricks on his mind, penetrating through the undulating waves, through pelagic zones down to the conical turret of Fefri''s hive he's been cohabiting since the last perigee. 

"its just the pressure or the sun or somethin" he tells himself for the tenth night in a row, lying on his back, floating on the slime, staring up at the faint distorted patterns traced on the wall. Feferi snorts in her sleep, and he rolls his head, staring at her back, feeling the countless tons of water against his chest through wall and ceiling.  
Yet again, the argument bubbles up inside of him. It's not that he doesn't wish he could sleep, but this is the worst part of every night.

> theres no one else for her anywway  
>  she wwould be alone  
> 

you dont care about her

> fuck off asshole a course i do

do you

> dont do this again  
>  wwhy do i do this every night  
>  wwhy cant i just look at her and be happy  
>  i dont even knoww wwhat i feel wwhen i look at her  
> 

this is wwrong  
you cant do this to her  
you dont care about her  
you should leave her

> i dont wwant to be alone

maybe you deserve to be

Feferi choke-snorts again in her sleep. He reaches inside himself, looking for anything. How can he not think she's cute? She's adorable. Right. Right? Isn't she? Doesn't he love her? How Could He Not? It's always been her, hasn't it?

So why does this all feel so wrong.

He tries to force himself to fall asleep. ill count seahorses. counting seahorses always wworks. its science. science is right about things like that. wwish science kneww wwhat the fuck is wwrong wwith me.  
It's hard to resist the urge to grab his tablet and message someone, to distract himself from the pit in his stomach, but he manages. For a moment. wwho am i kiddin i hate this i knoww it wwont help me sleep, he thinks as he lifts himself out of their recuperacoon with his arms, clomping to the ground harder than he intended, but not nearly hard enough to wake Feferi from her deep, fulfilled slumber. Pulling over an insulating sheet from off their splaysac, enshrining himself with it in front of his terminal, he pulls up Trollian, closes Trollian, opens Trollian, closes it again. He can't even look at the ChumpRoll, it's too late in the day to pester someone else, even if they are online. fuck it all, he thinks. He sighs, closes his eyes, opens Trollian one last time, clicks where he instinctively knows to look, popping out the list of active chumps. There's more than he thought online: theyre probably havin a good time or somethin up this late fuck, he thinks, dejectedly double clicking TA's asswipe handle

> CA: hey asswwipe  
> CA: hey  
> CA: dont make me keep doing this sol just talk to me  
> CA: i knoww youre there  
> TA: wiill you plea2e fuck off. iim working and ii couldnt care le22 about your miidday piitch 2oliiciitatiion2  
> CA: come on sol-  
> 

In the middle of typing, his text bar fades translucent, and a frustratingly jovial red-and-blue-eyed leering grey face symbol pulsed in and out, left and right on his screen, spouting insulting text.  
sol always is so fuckin extravagant, he thinks, closing the window, flipping back to the list, no longer filled with anxiety, just sitting in his insulating coccoon, feeling the acid boil in his stomach as he opens the next chat window down the line

> CA: hey vvris  
>  CA: howw are the irons  
>  CA: are they in the fire  
>  CA: are they burnin  
>  CA: vvris please respond  
>  AG: Man, you're really 8eing a p8in in the 8ss right now. Shouldn't you 8e off cuddling with your matey-w8ey? It's so l8!! ::::')  
>  CA: pleasant as alwways vvris i just wwanna talk  
>  CA: i cant sleep  
>  AG: Aww, fish8oy has insomnia? You poooooooor thing!  
>  AG: 8ey, I know just the thing for you! I 8et you're seeing too much, right? All that light is confusing your poor w8ery gl8nce nuggets? ::::)  
>  AG: If you ever d8gined to come up here I have juuuuuuuust the thing for you.  
>  AG: But nooooooo, you're too good to come see a land-dweller like me  
>  CA: ok i see wwhat you mean but i wwanna talk noww please vvris  
>  AG: Aww, do you? We're t8lking now aren't we?  
>  CA: wwell yeah but you kinda  
>  AG: Ooooooooh, sorry to cut you off there, 8ut I just felt a tug! And you know what that means :::)  
>  CA: is it one of the irons  
>  AG: You know it! So many irons. So many fires. 8ye fish8oy!!!!!!!!  
>  CA: wwait vvris

Another closed terminal window, another one gone. maybe i should just go back to bed, he thinks.  
The bed.  
Just thinking about it makes his sweat cold. It shouldn't? Right? That's weird, it's wrong, she's his matespirit. Why can't he just sleep next to her like a proper flushed pair would. Their cocoon fits two, it wasn't like this at first.  
It was. No, it wasn't. Of course it wasn't. It still isn't. He's just stressed out. It's the dim season, or something. It's not her, and it's not him.  
He checks the orbit counter in the bottom of his screen. Just two hours left until the the sun sets, and he hasn't slept in four. Shutting down his terminal, he leaves the insulating sheet draped over it as he slowly walks back over to the recupracoon, slowly submerging himself in the slime and fading into a weak sleep. It'll be different tomorrow night.

It'll be different tomorrow night.


End file.
